


i like me better when i'm with you

by buckydarling



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, FOR BYRD WHO REQUESTED RALBERT I LOVE U, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckydarling/pseuds/buckydarling
Summary: No. No, he wasn’t still in love with his best friend. He was over it. Race was moving to Italy, and Skype calls would be sufficient to talk to Spot and Jack and all the others, and he wasn’t still in love with Albert. Absolutely not.





	i like me better when i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> notes will come later when i can think and i dont have a math final
> 
> related: i wrote this instead of studying for my math final
> 
> i love ralbert
> 
> title from the lauv song "i like me better"

The suitcase didn’t have eyes, but Race swore he could still feel the damn thing staring daggers into his back the entire three days it sat packed and ready on his bedroom floor, stuffed with enough clothing to get him through six months until the rest of his things were arranged to be shipped to Florence.

Florence. Italy.  _ Sheesh.  _ Race still couldn’t believe he was doing it. He was moving. To Italy. He was renting an apartment in Florence, and he was going to live in Italy for two whole years. Maybe longer, if things worked out that way; Race wasn’t really sure yet. All he knew was that the lease was set up, his bag was packed, and in twenty-four hours he was leaving on a one-way flight for Florence, leaving behind his friends, his old apartment, and the city he’d lived in his whole life.

_ And Albert,  _ a tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him. Race shushed it. He didn’t know why Albert had to be separate. Albert was his friend.  _ You  _ know  _ why Albert’s separate,  _ the voice piped up again, and Race had a strange desire to set his brain on fire. 

No. No, he wasn’t still in love with his best friend. He was over it. He was moving to Italy, and Skype calls would be sufficient to talk to Spot and Jack and all the others, and he wasn’t still in love with Albert. Absolutely not.

“God  _ damnit, _ ” he cursed out loud, flopping over on his now sheetless bed. “Damnit  _ damnit all. _ ”

“Everything okay?” the familiar voice of his best friend asked from the doorway, and Race rolled over on his side to see Albert leaning on his doorframe casually, hands in his pockets. They both ignored the suitcase between them. 

Race shrugged. “Yeah.” He sat up. “Everything’s just happening all at once, you know?” He laughed, looking around the barren room that had once been filled with his things. “Never thought the day would actually get here.” Albert snorted.

“You’re telling me,” he said bitterly, wandering into the room and sitting gingerly down on the bed next to Race. “My best friend, up and ditching me for the sunny streets of Italy.” Race laughed, but it was hollow. 

“Sorry,” he offered. It was no consolation to either of them.

Albert opened his mouth, hesitating before he spoke. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, his voice soft and uncharacteristically vulnerable. Race looked down at the mattress, wringing his hands. 

“Just feels right,” he said.  _ Lie.  _ “It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. Where the family’s from, and all that.”  _ Okay, truth.  _ “Like I’m going home, you know?”  _ Lie. Lie lie lie.  _

Albert shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure. But,” he said, then stopped.  _ But.  _ “Two whole years, Race? Really?” He sighed. “Aren’t you gonna miss us? Miss this?” 

Race felt one of his hands clench into fists. Was that really how Albert felt? Did he really think Race wasn’t going to miss any of them? “You really think I’m not gonna miss you guys?” he snapped, sounding meaner than he meant to.  _ Do you really think I’m not going to miss you?  _

Albert threw up his hands, getting defensive. “I don’t know, Race!” he snapped back. “All I know is one day without warning you told everyone you’d bought a one-way plane ticket to fucking Italy, to, I don’t know, start your new life there or something, and you didn’t talk to any of us first!” He ran a hand through his red hair, huffing. “It just felt sudden, you know? Like you didn’t fucking care.” Race’s blood boiled. 

“Why do you care so much, huh?’ he asked. “Aren’t I allowed to live my life? Make my own decisions?”

“That’s not my point, Race!” Albert yelled, standing up suddenly and pacing around the room. “You say you’re going home? You’ve never fucking been there, Race! Your parents haven’t even been back in years!” He threw up his hands, gesturing out the window. “This? New York? This is your home, Race! I’d understand visiting Italy, hell, even doing a semester abroad, but  _ moving?  _ It’s bullshit, Race, that’s what it is.” Race only sat, clenching bunches of the mattress cover between his fists.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered.  _ You don’t. You never could. You don’t understand what it’s like to be so achingly in love with your best friend it almost hurts to breathe. You don’t understand what it’s like to live like that for seven fucking years. You don’t understand how much of a part of me you are, and how much I don’t want to leave. You don’t understand that leaving this behind means I can force myself to let it go and put it behind me, that it has to be this way, because I know if I’m around you I’ll never move on to someone else. You don’t understand what it’s like to love someone so much that it feels like you need an entire fucking ocean to help yourself get over it. _

“Oh?” Albert let out a strangled laugh. “Of course. Of course I don’t understand. Because I don’t, Race,” he snapped, pacing around the damned suitcase. “I don’t understand why you get to pack up your whole fucking life and just  _ leave,  _ leave your friends and your job and your home, and  _ me- _ ” His voice broke, and Race bit down hard on his lip to stop the angry tears he knew were coming. He wished,  _ god,  _ he  _ wished  _ he could just fucking say it, but he  _ couldn’t,  _ so he kept his mouth shut.

“I can’t explain it,” he whispered finally. “I just have to.” He looked up, meeting Albert’s expression of not-quite-desperation. Something else Race couldn’t place. “Can’t you just support that?” he asked, heartbroken. “Even if you don’t understand?”

Albert shook his head in confusion, wiping his tear-stained face angrily. “I don’t know, Race,” he admitted in defeat. “All I know is I’m really fucking angry about it.”

Race stood up fast, his fists clenching. “Then why didn’t you say something?” he cried. “Earlier? I’ve had this ticket for almost four months now, Albie! You could have said  _ anything!  _ Anything, and I would’ve--”

“What? Would’ve changed your mind?” Albert snapped. “Would’ve decided not to go? That’s bullshit, Race, and we both know it. You made this decision. Hearing shit from me wasn’t gonna change your mind,” he spat bitterly. “You don’t care.”

“I do care!” Race yelled.  _ You don’t know the half of it.  _

Albert just shook his head. “No,” he said hollowly, “I don’t think you do.” He turned, walking back into the hallway. “Have fun in Italy, Tonio. Don’t forget about us.” He paused. “Don’t forget about where home really is.”

Race shut the bedroom door behind him, collapsing back on his bed and trying to muffle his choked sobs as sleep eluded him. 

~

The next day, everyone came over to say their goodbyes before Spot drove Race to the airport. 

Jack pulled him in for a hug. “You take care, you hear?” he reminded him. “Call as often as you can.” Race nodded, squeezing once tightly before pulling away.

“I will, Jackie-boy, don’t you worry,” he joked. Beside Jack, Crutchie sniffled a little again, and Race sighed, hugging him too. “Gonna miss you, Crutch.”

“Miss you too, Racer,” Crutchie mumbled. “Don’t have  _ too  _ much fun over there.” Race laughed, ruffling Crutchie’s blond hair. 

Looking over, he saw Albert zipping up the front pocket of his backpack before bringing it over. “Left your earbuds on my desk,” he said curtly, not meeting Race’s eyes.  _ Huh? I swear I had those packed already.  _

“Thanks,” Race bit back, taking the backpack and slinging it onto his shoulders. Albert kept looking at his feet.

“You should get going. Don’t want to miss your flight,” he said, and Race just nodded, a cold pit forming in his stomach. Albert paused, as if he wanted to say something else, then walked over to stand by the couch, still refusing to look at Race. Spot looked between the two of them, confused. 

“Albert?” he asked. “Aren’t you gonna say bye or--”

“He’s right,” Race interjected. “We should get going. I’ll text you all when I’m about to take off,” he said to the group, then hurried out the door to a chorus of final goodbyes before he had to look at Albert again. Downstairs, he sat and waited in the car, his backpack between his knees until Spot came out behind him and got into the driver’s seat.

They drove in silence for around ten minutes until Spot spoke up. “You wanna tell me what that was all about back there?” Race looked out the window. “Race. Come on.”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spot drawled sarcastically, “the fact that you’re moving away to a foreign country today and you didn’t bother saying goodbye to your best friend of over ten years?” Race shrugged. 

“We had an argument,” he said. “It’s nothing.” He looked over at Spot, who frowned sympathetically. 

“Race,” he said, “you know I’m supportive of what you want to do. But why do you keep running away from this?” 

They didn’t say anything else about it until they got to the airport, and Race pretended to not know what he meant. 

~

After his goodbyes to Spot were done, and he was all through security, Race sat on the airplane as it idled at the gate. There were still checks to be done and passengers to be boarded; he figured there were at least twenty minutes until takeoff. Reaching down to unzip the front pocket of his backpack, Race figured he’d find his earbuds and listen to music to calm himself down a little bit until it was time to fly.

He didn’t find his earbuds. What he did find was a crinkled white envelope,  _ Race  _ scrawled neatly on the back in Albert’s achingly familiar handwriting. 

Race furrowed his brow. He never remembered being given this; Albert must have put it in the backpack when he hadn’t noticed. Was it a check? Lots of people had offered him money to spot the rent, Albert among them, but Race had turned them down. He opened the unsealed envelope curiously, finding a letter hastily written on a sheet of lined paper. His breath hitched at the lines of Albert’s handwriting as he unfolded it to read.

_ Race. _

_ God, this is harder than I thought it would be. _

_ We’re both mad at each other right now. I don’t know what to do; I can’t take back everything that’s been said just now, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to. Regardless of how angry it was coming out, I guess I meant it all; I am pretty mad you’re leaving. Scratch that, I’m really mad. _

_ Damn, this is supposed to be an apology letter. Fuck. _

Race barely noticed the lady sit in the seat next to him as he already felt the beginnings of tears sting his eyes. “Damnit,” he muttered, “not now.”

_ I guess I’ll start over with I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is how it has to end, with the both of us angry at each other; I fucked up and I don’t really know how to fix it, and you know I’ve always been better on paper than I have with words. So maybe it’s better this way; you can go to Italy hating me, and that way you won’t miss me. Clean break, right? _

_ I mean, you’ll probably hate me after you finish this letter anyway. But that’s for later. _

_ I just never understood why you were leaving. Sure, it’s where your parents are from. And I know when you were a kid you talked about visiting Italy, seeing the sights, learning about your roots. But that’s just it - when we were kids it was always implied that you’d come back. Home, to us, to me. Either that or I was right there next to you, taking it all in. Race and Albie, best friends taking on the world together. _

Race squinted at the paper - were those  _ tear stains?  _ No. That was impossible.

_ I’m gonna miss you a lot. You’re my best friend, you goddamn idiot, of course I’m mad you’re leaving. I doubt I’d feel this way if it were Jack or Crutchie or, hell, even Elmer or Spot, but it’s not just that. It’s just. Just. _

_ Wow, I can’t even fucking say it on paper. What kind of spineless coward am I? _

_ I’m in love with you. _

Race slammed the letter down on the tray table of the airplane seat, breathing hard. No. He had to have read that wrong. He took a few shaky breaths, scanning the line over and over until he had convinced himself it was real, then kept reading, his hands trembling.

_ I’m in love with you, Race. God, it feels so scary to write that down, to have it out in the open. I don’t even remember when it started. It almost feels like I’ve always loved you, just in different ways. I loved you when we were eight years old and you asked me to play pirates with you at recess. I loved you when we were fourteen and I told you I was gay, and you just hugged me and told me I was still your best friend, and none of that mattered. I loved you when we were seventeen at our senior prom and you asked me to dance with you even though you were prom king because my date had ditched me and the girl who got prom queen was a real bitch, anyway.  _

_ I loved you when we were twenty-two and you bought a one way plane ticket for Italy and told me you were moving, and I’ll probably love you for the rest of my life. It’s as much a part of me as the color of my goddamn hair, loving you. I don’t think I know how to live without loving you. That scares me the most, out of all of this. _

_ So there it is, all down in ink and writing. Sorry if you hate me now. Call from Italy, or don’t. Hell, never speak to me again if you don’t want to. Just take care of yourself, and find a guy or a girl who treats you like everything you’re worth. They’ll still never deserve you. God knows I certainly don’t. _

_ I love you. _

_ Your best friend, always, _

_ Albie. _

Race couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t know anything except the fact that he was on an airplane about to cross the Atlantic Ocean, and Albert was in love with him, and everything was going to be shitty for the rest of Race’s entire life if he didn’t do his damn hardest to fix things right then and there.

He stood up, unbuckling his seatbelt and almost knocking over a flight attendant. “I need to get off the plane,” he stammered, Albert’s letter clutched in his hand. The girl looked at him, startled, and Race realized he probably looked like a mess with his tear-streaked face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Sir, are you sure?” she asked. “Luggage is already on board, and we’re due to start takeoff procedure, so unless--”

Race cut her off. “I need to get off the plane.” he repeated desperately. “Please.”

The flight attendant hesitated before nodding. “Okay. Here, this way.” She led him out into the terminal, and Race barely heard her shouting at the desk to let the next person on standby know there were seats available before he was sprinting for the exit of the terminal, desperate to hail a cab.

~

The cab ride back to Brooklyn was unbearably long. Race tapped his foot incessantly on the floor of the backseat, rereading Albert’s words over and over on the already worn sheet of paper to reassure himself he was doing the right thing.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you.  _

At long last, the cab pulled up in front of his apartment building. Race heaved a sigh of relief, tossing the cabbie eighty dollars and barely managing a “keep the change” before he sprinted out of the car and up the six flights of stairs to the apartment he’d only left for what he thought would be the final time a few hours prior. The spare key was still buried in the flowerpot by the door, and Race unlocked the front door with trembling hands, bursting into the apartment.

“Albert?” he called. “Albie?” 

Albert wandered out of his room, his face confused and red like he’d been crying, and Race almost wilted with relief. He’d never looked more gorgeous.

“Race, what the fuck? Your flight left thirty minutes ago--” Albert started, but he never had the chance to finish as Race crossed the room to reach him in three long strides, seized his face with both hands, and kissed him desperately like his life depended on it. 

Since he was fifteen, Race had imagined more times than he could count what it’d be like to kiss Albert. He’d imagined countless different singular feelings, trying to sum up what it might feel like to kiss his best friend. Kissing Albert in actuality was a thousand different emotions at once, so many Race’s brain almost short-circuited. Kissing Albert felt simultaneously like fireworks and familiarity, like freedom and safety, like soaring and being anchored securely to where he was. Kissing Albert, Race decided, felt like coming home, and he never wanted it to stop. 

Albert froze with complete shock for only a second before letting out a breathy gasp, reaching up with both hands to tangle his fingers in Race’s hair and kissing him back with equal ferocity. Race’s hands moved everywhere, over Albert’s shoulders, his waist, the small of his back, clenching and unclenching in the fabric of his shirt as they kissed like they needed it to breathe. Soon enough, Race’s lungs were screaming for air, and he broke off with a ragged gasp, letting his forehead fall forward to press against Albert’s, their breath mingling in soft huffs.

“I love you,” Race gasped, still catching his breath. “I’m so in love with you. I can’t believe - god, I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I was actually about to - I’m so sorry for making you worry, for making you angry. I love you, Albie, I love you so much.” 

Albert let out a choked noise, and Race’s eyes flew open to take in his face, eyes sparkling with tears and gazing at Race with wonder. “You’re here,” he whispered, on the verge of a sob. “You came back.” Race smiled, his own tears already spilling once again. 

“Course I did,” he responded. Albert just shook his head in disbelief, kissing Race again and sighing into it open mouthed. 

“I love you,” he said almost reverently when they broke apart, and Race grinned stupidly hearing it out loud for the first time. “You’re crazy,” Albert continued with a laugh, “but I love you.” He kissed Race sweetly, hands trailing down from his hair down to interlock their fingers. “Don’t ever pull that shit again, okay?” he whispered angrily. “Don’t you do it. Don’t you leave me.”

Race shook his head. “Never. Won’t go anywhere unless you’re with me.” He squeezed both of Albert’s hands before bringing his up to caress his face, pressing small kisses everywhere he could and punctuating each one with an “I love you.” Albert laughed, wrapping both arms around Race’s waist and burying his face in his shoulder, holding tight. 

They could have stood there forever, swaying as they held each other and murmuring “I love you” back and forth, and done nothing else for the rest of time, and Race wouldn’t have cared. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> for byrd,,,,,,,i love u and u write amaze
> 
> tumblr: hispanicjackkelly


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